


War in Pieces

by themoonflower



Series: War and the Underworld [4]
Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Consensual Violence, Hades (Video Game) Canon-Typical Temporary Death, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, More tags to be added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-28 23:00:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30146904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themoonflower/pseuds/themoonflower
Summary: A city gets sacked, and Ares gets affected.*Graphic violence warning for Chapter 2
Relationships: Ares/Thanatos (Hades Video Game), Ares/Thanatos/Zagreus (Hades Video Game), Ares/Zagreus (Hades Video Game), Thanatos/Zagreus (Hades Video Game)
Series: War and the Underworld [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2179146
Comments: 26
Kudos: 53





	1. Out of Sorts

**Author's Note:**

> This is set several (about 7-10) years after the events of my previous multi-part fic, _A Fellow Student of Death,_ but should stand on its own. The tl;dr version of that as far as it affects this story is as follows: Ares has been unbanned from the underworld and now spends a lot of time there, and he, Thanatos, and Zagreus are now in an established relationship. Anything beyond that should be clear enough from context.

Zagreus feels the danger as soon as he steps into the lounge. 

It’s Ares, of course it is, back from whatever war he was busy with on the surface for the last week or two. He is sitting next to Thanatos on the oversized couch he prefers, its back to the wall and with clear sight lines to the whole room, and his eyes are locked on Zagreus with a more than usually predatory intensity.

There are no other gods or shades in the lounge—even the staff appear to have gone on break in response to the aura of menace Ares is emanating.

“I’m glad you’re back,” Ares says, showing his teeth in something that is not quite a smile. His tone is as courteous as it always is in public, but his voice is lower than usual, with a bit of an echo of his divine aspect in it, evoking the din of battle. “Did you die in an interesting manner?”

“Don’t be rude,” Thanatos chides. “Sorry, Zag, he’s in a mood.”

“I can see that,” Zagreus says, his eyes not leaving Ares’ as he approaches, careful to make no sudden moves and to keep his hands in sight. “I’m afraid I just hopped in the Styx to come straight home. If I’d known you were back, I would have made sure to do something ridiculous, just for you.” 

“Pity, but I suppose doing otherwise would have delayed you,” Ares says. He reaches up and cups the side of Zagreus’ face in one hand. It’s to all appearances an affectionate gesture, but it’s definitely not an accident that his little finger finds its way down below Zagreus’ jaw and stops over his pulse. 

Blood and darkness, Ares  _ knows _ what that does to him. Zagreus’ chin edges up a little on instinct to bare his throat further and Ares’ hand trembles slightly as Zagreus feels what that does to  _ him, _ but there’s a harder edge to it than usual— 

“Stop that, you two,” says Thanatos, tugging Ares’ hand away and clasping it in his own. “Do I need to separate you? Just because there’s no one else here right now doesn’t mean you won’t get in trouble if you start knocking tables over.”

Ares shakes himself. “I’m sorry, my lord,” he says. 

Zagreus decides that taking a spot on the couch would be asking for trouble, and pulls over a chair from one of the tables. “What happened?” he asks.

“There was a siege,” Thanatos says when Ares doesn’t answer right away.

“I hate sieges,” Ares says darkly. He picks up a cup from a small side table and takes a drink from it. “Athena can keep the damn things for herself. It’s no proper way to have a war. But even so, it should have been fine.” He drinks again. “Then the invading army collapsed the foundations of the wall somehow.” He stares off into the distance.

“Well, wouldn’t that at least mean there would be some actual fighting?” Zagreus says.

“Briefly,” Ares says. He takes another drink. “Then it got a little ugly. Have you ever seen a city get sacked?”

“I don’t get out much,” Zagreus reminds him. “But Achilles was never particularly shy about teaching me how bad a real war can get. I think I can imagine.”

Ares drains his cup. “Whatever you can imagine, it’s probably worse,” he says. “And it… affects me. Even when I don’t personally stay for it.” 

Well, that could explain why he’s been looking at Zagreus like he is something to be captured, devoured, and left in ruins. “Is it still going on?” he asks.

“It’s mostly over,” says Ares. “Still some fires, perhaps, but it’s been a couple of days now and it wasn’t that big a city. Enyo and the boys have been mopping up. It’s easier for them, being smaller aspects. Less… complicated.” He looks disapprovingly at the bottom of his cup. “Is there any more of this left?”

“I think,” says Thanatos, “that it might be a better idea to keep whatever inhibitions you still have left in place right now.”

Ares sets the cup down with an irritated sigh. 

“We don’t have to stay here,” Zagreus says. “Let’s go somewhere safer.” He corrects himself. “Somewhere you don’t have to worry about being safe. Would getting into a fight help?”

“I don’t know,” says Ares. “Would it bother you if I killed you?”

Zagreus lets out a dismissive _tsch._ “It would hardly be the first time. Why would it bother me?”

“Usually I try not to.” His tone is flat, unapologetic. Through the link originally forged as a conduit for their boons, Zagreus can feel the roiling storm of emotion in his lover. 

“Would it help?” Zagreus asks again. “What do you usually do?”

Ares shrugs. “Kill things. Break things. Burn things down. Go feral for a while until I’m fit for civilized company again, generally.” 

A sound of commotion comes from outside the lounge. Zagreus hurries out to investigate, and sees Achilles leveling his spear at a figure on the ground. “Who do you think you are?” he demands of the baffled-looking shade.

“I’m sorry, sir!” the shade says. “I didn’t see you!”

Achilles looks about to give an angry retort, and then his furious expression changes to one of confusion and he lifts his spear away. “I’m so sorry,” he says as the shade scrambles away. He looks past Zagreus. “Ah, I see. My lord Ares. I did not realize you had returned. You seem to be projecting a bit of… influence, sir.”

Ares’ aura has contracted tightly back around himself, Zagreus notes, and he carries himself with stiff formality. “Your pardon, Sir Achilles,” he says. “I was not aware you were nearby, but I should have been minding myself in any case. I will see myself out.” He stalks off, Thanatos following after him.

“Is he all right?” Achilles asks as he watches him go. “He’s usually much better about not affecting me. That poor fellow barely jostled me, but…” He looks around for the shade he just threatened.

“I’m sorry,” Zagreus says. “He didn’t mean to, honestly. I hope no one gives you any trouble about it.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Achilles says. “He can owe me a drink when he’s feeling better. But I’d best find that shade and apologize properly. I’ll catch up with you later.”

Zagreus nods and heads after Ares and Than, but as he passes by the administration desk, his father calls him over. “Kindly ask your pet Olympian to refrain from aggravating my staff,” he grumbles.

Zagreus bites back a flippant response. As much as he likes to banter, he never wants to run the risk of actually putting Ares out of favour with the god whose ongoing permission is required for him to remain in the underworld as a living being who is not technically Chthonic himself. “It was unintentional, Father,” he says. “He’s just having a bad day.”

“When Lord Ares has a bad day,” Hades says, not looking up from his parchmentwork, “it generally means a bad day for everyone around him as well. He knows better than to bring that down here with him.”

“He won’t be back until he’s got himself under control, I’m sure,” Zagreus says. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going after him. The details of my last security check are available in the administration chamber.”

By the time Zagreus turns the corner to the west hall, Ares is already gone. He has a little nook dedicated to him near Than’s balcony—banners, replicas of his favourite weapons, a place to sit and think, and a small table are there, although Ares insisted that the statue was a bit much and made Zagreus remove it. As long as someone leaves the occasional bottle of nectar on the table for him, it technically counts as an active shrine, so Ares can use the outline of a door installed on the wall as a portal to or from any of his personal strongholds.

Thanatos is waiting for him near the portal. “Your father isn’t too angry, is he?” he asks. “Do I need to have a word with him?”

“I don’t think so,” Zagreus says. “Is this normal for him? Ares, I mean, after something like this?”

Than is wearing his usual expression of vaguely bored annoyance, but Zagreus thinks he detects some worry there. “He’s usually out of sorts for weeks,” Than says. “I was honestly surprised to see him so soon. Normally he avoids me.” 

Zagreus pulls him into his arms and kisses him. “Well, you know how a nice fight always helps when he’s out of sorts,” he says. “We’ll go no holds barred for a while and he’ll feel much better.”

“I know how your no holds barred fights tend to end,” says Than.

Zagreus shrugs. “That will probably make him feel better, too, don’t you think?”

Thanatos huffs out something that might be a chuckle. “I suppose so,” he says. “I know I’ve never been able to help him when he gets like this, but I’m nowhere near as… aggressively physical as you are. I’m glad he’s got you.”

“I’m glad we all have each other,” Zagreus says. “And I’ll do my best to help. Did he say where he was going?”

“The usual place,” Than says. “He’s probably almost there by now. I’ll let him know you’re coming, shall I?”

Zagreus kisses him one more time, then pulls away from Than’s arms and steps over the balcony railing. “Be there soon,” he says, and lets go, dropping into the Styx.


	2. Neither Safe Nor Sane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was not a good idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content note: This chapter gets fairly graphically violent towards the end, be warned.

Most gods have at least one way to travel quickly from one place to another. They can go between their strongholds and their places of worship, and to places immediately of concern to their domain. Ares can go anywhere there is an active armed conflict, and Than can go nearly anywhere at all, since everywhere is subject to death.

Zagreus can die and reappear elsewhere along the Styx.

He’s not very good at it yet: there are only a couple of places, besides the usual pool in the House of Hades, that he can reliably locate during that time between death and rebirth, in the sprawling web that is the great river bordering and flowing into the Underworld. The river herself is sentient but very difficult to communicate with, and mundane place names and landmarks mean nothing to her, but if he has died at a given spot on the river enough times, she can take him back to it.

The Styx is not gentle, especially here in Tartarus where she runs blood red and strange shapes reach out of the water, but she knows him and seems… fond, perhaps, of the strange little god whose body melts into her own substance and rejoins her whenever he dies, which is often.

Not usually this often, though. He stepped out of the pool less than half an hour ago, and he gets an impression of an amused “already?” as he wills himself to dissolve into her once more without going through the bother of dying of anything in particular. But she has no objection to letting him join her again and travel along her network until he reaches the stream running through the back of a cavern just outside Ares’ house and lets himself reform there.

Ares and Thanatos are already there waiting for him when he emerges from the water. “Thank you for coming,” Ares says. “I’m sorry I left so quickly, but I feared I might strain the terms of my welcome if I stayed any longer.”

Zagreus smiles. “I understand,” he says. “Just try not to cause any trouble next time. And you owe Achilles a drink.”

The cavern is a border place, not quite part of the surface world but not quite part of Hades’ domain either, and as such, Zagreus only feels a slight drain on his strength when spending time here. Ares had it built up from an existing cave a few years ago, leveling the ground but leaving several natural pillars and rock formations, installing glowing crystals for illumination, and coaxing the water flow from a trickle to something sufficient for Zagreus to use for rebirth. Learning he could use it for direct travel has been a more recent discovery.

Zagreus looks up at Ares, towering over him in his natural form—the top of his head still barely clears Ares’ collarbone, in spite of his having gained a little bit of height over the last few years as he starts to grow into his godhood. “So,” he says. “You think a fight might help?”

“It might at least get a few things out of my system,” Ares says. “But I want to warn you, I don’t think I’ll be able to hold much back if we do. This… isn’t going to be safe.”

Zagreus reaches up and takes his face in his hands. “I did not fall for you because I thought you were  _ safe,” _ he says. “You don’t need to worry about holding back. If you won’t be satisfied merely with fighting to win, I’ll be all right. In fact, let’s do this properly.” He steps back and gives him a formal bow. “Lord of War, I dedicate this battle to you. If my blood be shed, if my life be laid down, may it be in your name and to your glory.”

Part of him sometimes wonders if, when Achilles first speculated on the nature of Zagreus’ domain, the fallen hero could have possibly imagined that this would be one of the ways he exercised his divinity. But making any blood he spills a deliberate sacrifice speeds up the consecration of this site to the four gods to whom it belongs: the three of them plus Styx herself. The more sacred to them it becomes, the less of a drain on his strength Zagreus feels when he remains here, and the easier it is to travel to it along the river.

Ares closes his eyes and takes a breath, a little of the tension seeming to ease out of his bearing. Zagreus smiles at that; for all that most of the other Olympians see him as some kind of barbarian, he is awfully fond of certain kinds of rituals and formality. When he opens his eyes again, his crimson irises are glowing like the Phlegethon. “All battles are offerings to me,” he says, returning the bow, “yet I will accept your life’s blood with special favour.”

It’s not the first time they have fought with the option to go to the death before. But Zagreus has the feeling that Ares definitely intends to collect on the “life laid down” bit today. That’s fine; it’s not unusual for Zagreus to lose at least one death defiance even in a normal fight, since they always use real weapons. If he runs out, the river is right there.

Zagreus goes over to his equipment cabinet and prepares himself for combat. The contents are warded against vermin and damp, though the armour is still chilly through the fabric of his chiton. He still prefers the mobility of going entirely unarmoured, but Ares has managed to convince him that he needs the protection for any but the most casual of sparring. He’ll definitely need it today.

“Weapons?” he asks as he works on the fastenings.

“Whatever you like,” is the reply.

Zagreus finishes his preparations, selecting a plain infantry spear and shield, along with a short sword in a scabbard on his belt for backup. He runs through a few forms with each weapon to remind himself of their feel on his way to the middle of the cavern where Ares is waiting, kitted out in his full battle gear. He’s holding a spear as well.

Thanatos also comes to the middle. “You’re both ready?” he asks. They nod. “Boons,” he says.

Zagreus frees a hand and offers it, but Ares hesitates. “My current state of mind may be a distraction to you,” he says.

“I will not have you fighting without being able to feel if the other needs to stop,” Thanatos says, his tone calm but unyielding. “You play properly by the rules, my disciple, or you don’t play at all.”

After a moment, Ares drops his gaze. “If you insist, lord.” He reaches his own hand out to Zagreus.

Zagreus offers Ares his usual death defiance. He’s unlikely to need it, but Zagreus has gotten in lucky hits before. From Ares he takes fortitude.

The close-range mutual exchange as usual brings their souls into deeper contact, giving them a stronger sense of each other’s presence and emotional state. It’s a familiar routine now, rather than the nearly overwhelmingly intimate experience it was when they first started doing this, but Zagreus isn’t quite prepared this time for the force of his lover’s mind. He’s used to the way Ares feels when he hasn’t had a satisfying fight in a while, the feeling of his pent-up urge for combat and conquest looking for an outlet, but this is different. There is something unfocused and chaotic about his thirst for violence now, and it’s mixed in with frustration and shame and something painful that Zagreus can’t even name.

It takes the boon a little longer than usual to take root, but Zagreus holds on, surrounding the edges he can reach with assurances of his love and support regardless of how Ares is feeling right now, and finally the connection steadies.

“You’re sure you want to do this?” Ares asks. The echoes of battle in his voice are stronger now.

Zagreus smiles. “A good fight always makes you feel better,” he says.

They raise their weapons in salute.

“If you hear your name, you stop,” Thanatos says.

They nod.

“You may begin,” Thanatos says, and blinks back to the outer edge of the cave.

Ares lunges forward, and Zagreus dashes right through him and keeps going, bringing up his shield to deflect the throw he knows is coming even as he whirls around to meet it. Ares is bigger and stronger than he is, but he is faster than Ares, and the instant Ares needs to recall his spear will give Zagreus time to open up a bit more distance and reach one of the stone pillars—

Ares catches up to his thrown spear, moving so quickly his form is just a blur. 

Zagreus is already in motion and knows better than to stop and stare, but damn. When the hell did Ares pick up Achilles’ signature move?

Zagreus manages to put the pillar between them and lets fly a throw of his own, more as an attempted distraction than anything, but he has still never gotten the hang of Achilles’ move except when wielding Varatha in the form that remembers it, so he can’t do the same trick. Ares easily evades the spear and keeps coming for him, and Zagreus recalls it to his hand as he darts away to the next bit of cover.

It’s only been a handful of seconds, but already he hasn’t felt this outmatched since the early days of his attempted escapes from home, back when he didn’t yet know all his opponents’ attack patterns, every flourish Theseus has in his arsenal, every quirk of Lernie’s various heads, every complication of the Pact of Punishment. He thought he had a good feel for Ares’ combat style. But when he usually fights Ares, it is a playful contest, often a mere appetizer for other equally physical but less dangerous games to follow. 

It suddenly occurs to him that he has never actually faced Ares in  _ battle _ before, because a friendly duel is not, in fact, the same thing. A duel has rules, etiquette, and expectations. A battle has only the expectation that each side is trying to take the other down as efficiently as possible. 

If he were carrying more of Ares’ boons perhaps he would be better able to intuit his next move, he considers as he continues to skip among the rocks and pillars. The more blessings they share, the more easily they can read each other. But all Zagreus can feel right now through their link is his satisfaction at the consternation Zagreus is experiencing, his anticipation of a victory near at hand, and his craving for blood on the ground, spilled personally by his hand and dedicated personally to his glory.

Zagreus dashes around a boulder and runs nearly headlong into the spinning blade rift Ares apparently cast ahead of him before following around the other side behind Zagreus. Zagreus twists and manages to get nearly out of the way, but it scores a line through his linothorax and grazes along his ribs, and he lets out a hiss of pain. The hiss turns into a yelp as the burn of Doom sets in a second later.

Wait a minute, Ares’ blade rifts don’t  _ carry _ Doom… until Ares decides they do, apparently.

He takes advantage of Zagreus’ moment of distraction to make a jab with his spear. Zagreus manages to get his own spear up in time to push it away from himself and trap it against the side of the boulder. This works for a brief moment, until the spear vanishes and now Ares has a sword in his hand instead and is bringing it down onto Zagreus’ extended spear arm.

Zagreus gets his dash off just in time and feels Ares’ malicious derision echoing down their bond. Did he really dare think he could do anything except flee before the might of War? He was flattering himself to even call this a battle. This is merely a predator toying with its prey. 

_ He tried to warn me, _ he realizes.  _ He said he didn't think he would be able to hold back. _ What Zagreus thought he meant was that he wouldn't go easy on him in the fight, and that's probably even what Ares thought he meant too.

But didn’t this begin with an army not holding back? With a war unmoored from its usual restraints? With Ares saying that he was affected by it?  _ Whatever you can imagine, it's probably worse, _ he'd said. This grim, wanton brutality that he is feeling coming off of Ares in waves—this isn’t his usual battle aura. 

This is what happens when War loses control.

And they put a weapon in his hand and a quarry to chase in front of him and thought it would be a good idea to let him seek catharsis. 

Zagreus has a terrible certainty that he needs to either make his way back close enough to catch Than's eye because he doesn't have enough breath to spare to form words, or go down fighting, because any other outcome is going to break Ares.

If he tries to lower his weapons and surrender, Ares is going to cut him down anyway before he can stop himself. And if Ares gets him disarmed and helpless on the ground… it won’t be a quick clean kill on his mind and it’s going to  _ break _ him no matter what happens and how fast Than intervenes.

Zagreus never quite realized before how much he relied on Ares to be the one in control of what should or shouldn’t be happening, to know what the boundaries are and when they are too close to crossing them. Even if it occurred to him, he always thought that if something started to go wrong, he would have the chance to say or do something about it, or it would be so obviously wrong that Than would notice right away.

He did have his chance. It was already going wrong as soon as they exchanged boons and he had to struggle to get it to take and felt Ares’ incoherent urge to lash out. But he just figured that he could take anything that Ares dealt out to him, as if that was the only relevant factor and whatever Ares dealt out when he wasn’t in his right mind only affected Zagreus and not Ares himself.

So now here he is, stuck in this merciless chase around the cavern that probably looks to all appearances like just another fight, if a faster-paced one than normal. Than can’t feel the way Ares is sensing Zagreus’ increasing panic, the way he is delighting in it as he feels his target’s morale starting to break. Than can’t feel Ares’ rising excitement as he realizes that Zagreus has let himself be driven—

Shit. Into a corner.

He turns, looks left, and makes the slightest preparation to move in that direction. Ares ignores it as the feint it obviously is, throwing a blade rift out that way just in case, but sending his weapon to Zagreus’ right to catch him as soon as he comes out of his dash. 

Zagreus instead dashes straight  _ up,  _ twisting in the air to kick off the slope between wall and ceiling and propel himself forward over Ares’ head. He swings his spear in a wild arc to try to hold Ares off long enough to have a clear spot to land and from there break into a zig-zagging dash-run directly towards Thanatos… 

The tip of his spear slashes across the back of Ares' right arm, opening a line of bright ichor just above his elbow, and the violence simmering through Ares’ mind boils over into pure rage.

Oh. Apparently he _ still _ wasn’t attacking with his full might until now.

The counterattack smashes into him before he even lands. He can’t even tell where he’s been hit—all he registers is the impact. Darkness envelops him as his body knits itself imperfectly back together, the lower half of his body lighting up with pain as something in his spine is forced back into place. 

Ares knows exactly how long that moment of invulnerability lasts, and so Zagreus doesn’t even have time to register that he can move again before Ares brings his sword down in a brutal two-handed blow, shattering his collarbone and driving him down to the ground. Somehow he manages to land in a crouch, but then Ares kicks him in the chest, jarring his ruined shoulder and sending him toppling over backwards.

He lands on a blade rift.

As the second death defiance takes him, his body decides that yes, now is the time to scream, although no one is going to hear him over Ares’ roar of fury and triumph.

When the invulnerability passes this time Ares is kneeling over him with a knife in his hand, the red glow of his eyes almost blindingly bright inside his helmet. He gives Zagreus a fraction of a second to come to full awareness before plunging the knife down, not into anything vital but rather into his already-injured shoulder.

All Zagreus can perceive of the whole world is himself, the god above him, and the overwhelming presence in his mind. They are still connected through their link, and Ares is directly experiencing the agony and terror that he is inflicting on Zagreus, drinking it in like the finest ambrosia. 

Ares withdraws the knife, then slips it through the rent in the side of Zagreus’ armour and between his ribs, and Zagreus’ scream drowns in a fountain of blood. Ares holds him down until the darkness surrounds him again, and when Zagreus comes back to full awareness, he just reaches down and touches him.

Zagreus thinks he feels something knock Ares off of him, but it’s hard to be sure, because all of his injuries have erupted with Doom, festering into rot and poisoning his blood, and he is too delirious with fever and pain to do anything but wait for Styx to pull him down, down, down into the dark.


End file.
